Memories
by WeasleyJunkie
Summary: Helga still hadn't figured out where she was headed in life. rnrnThen he showed up.
1. Default Chapter

She slammed the door behind her before Big Bob really got into it. She was used to it by now, of course. She was used to hearing Big Bob talk about Olga like she was some gift sent from God, some deity that could not be less than perfect. She was also quite sick of hearing how well Olga was doing for herself, how she wasn't still living at home_unlike some people_ and how much she had developed on account of her going to college _unlike some people_. His comments still managed to piss her off, upset her and send her into a rage, even after 20 years of putting up with them. It was backhanded remarks like that that really stung Helga. She couldn't ever tell him how his comments actually made her feel, of course. He was Big Bob Patacki and she was Helga Patacki. They didn't talk feeling, as far as either one of them was concerned. The only kind of functional relationship they held was maintained by speaking to each other at a minimum and trying to ignore each others presence when in the same room.

All thoughts of her family vanished as she tugged on her shirt, cursing herself for forgetting a sweater in what looked to be a cold September night in Brooklyn. She decided to put up with the bitter wind however, as going back into the brownstone would not only make her late, but also makes her even more moody than she already was. And that wasn't good for business.

She decided to walk faster than her usual trot, almost run to her workplace, as she figured the exercise would warm her up a bit, at least, and help her burn off those 4 cheesecake slices she'd eaten for dinner. The neighborhood she'd grown up in had changed in recent years, and it wasn't exactly safe for her to be walking around at night, as she used to do when a child. She ignored the usual whistles from the drunks at the bar located two blocks from her workplace, as she's seen them whistle as Mrs. Rookney, a plump 79-year old lady who lived just opposite the restaurant she was headed, and knew they would whistle at a dog, should it happen to cross their path.

Finally, she entered Mr. Teos, the Italian restaurant she'd been working at approximately two years, and smiled at her coworkers. Rosy cheeked and a bit out of breath, she waved at them as she disappeared to the back of the restaurant, where her waitressing outfit lay. She dressed quickly, as the lock on the dressing room had recently accidentally broken (Helga was sure Mr. Teo had something to do with the lock, but never commented on the issue) and gave herself a look-over in the mirror. She deemed herself presentable, adjusted her nametag one last time before checking in her card and starting her shift.

The night had been busy. Fridays usually where, which meant more people and more tips, as far as Helga was concerned. Her shift was over in one hour, and although her feet were extremely happy for it, she didn't quite feel like going home just yet. Everyone would probably be asleep, as Miriam usually zonked out after dinner and Bog Bob fell asleep after the sports summary of the day, which was convenient for Helga as she didn't have to put up with any small talk, but the stillness of the house was a bit scary. She was used to getting home and just staring at her white walls for sometimes hours, willing sleep to pay her a visit, but rarely being able to immediatlyafter getting home.

She was thinking about getting some of those CD's Phoebe had recommended, with peaceful ocean and nature-like sounds, as she approached the new customers who had just seated themselves at one of her tables. Trying to decide whether crickets chirping or birds singing were more annoying, her head whipped up immediately as she heard the smooth baritone voice which still haunted her after all these year.

"Hello Helga" he said, and smiled.

Dumbstuck, she could only stare.

Arnold was back.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well now don't you look familiar. That face is just, Arnold, is she one of your school friends or something?" Phil, Arnold's grandfather asked, squinting while scrutinizing Helga.

All Helga could do was fidget. She nervously twirled her pen, while a sudden itch in her left and right ankles had her rubbing her legs together. She'd been left with no words, and still hadn't said anything, too nervous to even think straight.

"Helga?" she heard Arnold repeat, taking her out of her reverie.

Feeling like an idiot for having Arnold still affect _like that_, she stood up straight and decided that pretending they were just like any other customers would have to do. She could hyperventilate in the back, later.

"H-hey Arnold. How are you?" she asked, clearing her throat and wishing she had some water with her.

"Great, actually. And you?" he responded, as he leaned back into the booth and casually draped his arm across the seat.

"Uh, well, working, as you can see. Now, what can I get for you both?" She decided to cut the chit-chat, as Arnold and her had never been close friends, and she realized she didn't want to hear about all of his grand adventures anyway. At the moment, she wanted to run out of the restaurant, screaming and cursing the world for having Arnold show up when she surely looked a mess. This wasn't how she'd planned it out.

Having taken their orders, she excused herself, promising their drinks in a few minutes. As she was walking away she heard Phil yell "OH! That ugly little girl! Didn't she used to have a unibrow?" and break out in to a giggle. Helga's eyes watered, and she decided to make a quick stop at the bathroom, to calm herself down.

She walked into the ladies restroom and wanted to lock herself in one of the stalls while cursing faith for being such a dreadful bitch, but decided splashing cold water on her face would have to do. After all, she had customers waiting and only an hour of work left; crying in a stall would not benefit her in the slightest. She tried to talk herself into completing the shift, telling herself that she would be fine, that it didn't matter, but in the back of her mind, she didn't know who she was trying to fool. Arnold was back and so were all the gawddamn feelings.

She tried to even out her breathing, and checked herself in the mirror. She looked a fright, of course. The smallest bit of mascara she'd had on had rubbed off on her cheeks and hands, while her eyes had a pink tint to them, which made her seem like she'd been crying or high. She wiped her eyes clean and applied three coats of mascara, while trying to cover up that pimple which had conveniently decided to appear today. She fiddled in her pocket and found a tube of pale pink lipstick, which she decided to lightly run over her dry lips. She couldn't do anything about her eyes, but she could do something about her hair, which was sticking out of her bun at weird angles, making her look sloppy. After readjusting her hairstyle, checking her makeup and unbuttoning two buttons of her shirt, she decided she was ready. She might as well face him now, give him his drinks, his order, and run out of the restaurant. She walked out of the restroom with her head held high and went to the soda fountain to fill up two glasses of Coke and Dr. Pepper for Arnold and her grandfather.

"Excuse me, miss?" a customer questioned, waving his arm around to call her attention. Helga looked up and realized this particular fellow had ordered another soda a few minutes before Arnold had come into the restaurant.

_Youre a champ, Helga. Come on, pull it together! Arnold or no Arnold, you need to get on the ball!_


End file.
